Padlock of a Soul
by DaringDreamer
Summary: Jack and Elizabeth are dead, sent body and soul to a place Jack vowed he would never face again Davey Jones Locker. With Davey dead more than a month ago, why does the hellish place still exist? This time around, its much different.Part 3 of PHfM
1. Chapter 1

A Pirate's Heart for Me

- Padlock of a Soul-

**Ch 1**

Gibbs stood, numb, on the softly rocking deck of the _Black Pearl._ Fear and disbelief lay heavy in the pit of his stomach, leaving a lump in his throat that made it impossible for him to swallow the rum he so desperately needed. Cascading waterfalls of crystal clear water sent a thin mist into the air, almost hiding the island they had sailed so hard to find from sight. Gibb's lip curled in a sneer at the lush green spit of land, happily resting in this private wonderland. It had no right to look so damn pleased, so very peaceful.

Not an hour ago, his Captain and friend, Jack Sparrow, had been devoured by a great sea leviathan and he could not do a thing to stop it. It had taken the beautiful pirate King Elizabeth Swann along with it, the two clasping in what was no less than a lovers embrace. The sight of the two facing the unknown and certain death had brought Gibbs to tears, even as he struggled to rise against the incessant screeches of the devil spawn beast. In the end, all he could do was watch.

He cast his eyes over to the man that had boarded a moment ago, a man who he scarcely knew anymore yet was once a great ally. The atmosphere about William Turner's presence as he hovered about the deck was heavy with simmering anger and, more prominently, distress. Gibbs had been against letting the man aboard, previous attempts at his Captain and his own life a warning bell. But a murmured word laden with tear filled eyes gave him hope that, perhaps, the old William was breaking through to the world again. Gibbs just wished such grave circumstances hadn't been the cause to draw him back.

"Where do ye think they have been taken?" Gibbs asked, timidly, afraid to know the answer.

Will's face was grave, eyes dark and devoid of hope or happiness. "I don't know."

Gibbs scowled. Was this not the man who was to ferry souls who died at sea to the other side? Shouldn't he, of all people, know where Elizabeth and Jack were headed? Before he could open his mouth to speak, Will started up again. "I can't sense their souls…"

Those five words made Gibb's blood run even colder, so frigid he feared it may lay solid in his veins. "What do ye mean, you can't sense their souls?"

Will's eyes snapped to his and anger brimmed on the edge of combustion. "It is as if they are not dead. They must lie somewhere between life and death."

Gibbs shuttered. "Could it be that the demon snake did not finish them off in one bite? Did the thing swallow them whole? Do they now lay in the bottom of its belly, dark and stench filled…"

"No." Will's voice was sharp and sure. "I saw the flicker, the last burst of energy before a soul departs but there was nothing after, no summoning call. They are gone from the land of the living, Mr. Gibbs and they have not yet died."

Gibbs cast his eyes back out to the sea, oblivious to the second ship that had come to anchor beside the Flying Dutchman; Bloody Shane's crew. Only one thought sprung to his mind, the one and only place he had ever heard of souls being sent to in such a state; Davey Jones Locker.

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Pain. Blinding, white hot, searing pain. He could feel it in every limb, to parts he thought could not have felt pain. To parts he knew very well capable of feeling pain and screaming now with the agony of it. His head throbbed with it. His heart beat sluggishly against it. When he finally found the courage and the strength to open his eyes, to climb back to consciousness and away from the dark abyss, he was greeted by the sound of his own screams, tearing from his throat and leaving even that raw and sore.

He screwed his eyes shut tightly, clamping his mouth shut and reducing the pain induced sound to a very unmanly whimper. The pain, he thought, should have ended. Surely he was dead. He opened one eye timidly, satisfied to feel the pain in his head recede a bit with his waking and the pain in his limbs reduced to a mere tolerable torturous throbbing.

What met his eyes was grey. There was no other word for it. As he opened his other eye, Jack Sparrow was greeted with an endless stretch of grey… something above his head. No clouds. No stars. No sun. No nothing.

He groaned, rolling over onto his side. The movement brought on a wave of nausea and he paused, breathing deeply to chase it away. He thanked God for his past dealings with less than kind hangovers. It made the feeling pass away quickly.

He brought his hands underneath him as he rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself up on limbs that shook under his weight. Funny, he could never remember being so weak. The only time he had ever felt so terrible, the only time he could feel such agonizing pain upon wake was when he was sent to and trapped in Davey Jones Locker.

Jack froze, crouched on hands and knees that shook as if he had never used them. "Davey Jones Locker…" he whispered.

Panic seized him and his arms would hold him no longer. He collapsed in an undignified heap on the cold, grey ground. Davey Jones Locker all over again, his thoughts started. Not again. Never again. Never wish it on anyone. Immortality would have prevented such a fate. Immortality had been just within my reach. She had kissed me… no. She had not. That was last time. Now I am dead. Couldn't be the locker, not anymore.

His thoughts chased themselves in a dizzying and confusing circle of dazed memories.

Betrayal… no, not this time. Forgiven and forgotten, that. Aye, I had forgiven her of that. Who is this she? Who is… who? Who is she? Who am I?! Captain of a ship. Aye, I am Captain Jack Sparrow. Can't forget that. But she… she…

"Elizabeth." The word was spoken softly, muffled as his face was pressed firmly to the ground. With the name, all the memories came flooding back. The snake, slithering onto his beautiful ship, eyes fixed on Elizabeth, his Lizzie… its sacrifice. The sacrifice given willingly for his immortality. His head spun and for a moment, he feared he might retch. But the nausea once again passed as quickly as it had come and, with fear pumping through his veins, he pushed himself up again.

The pain had receded to a mere dull ache all over his body and he found his arms could support him easier. The thought that Elizabeth suffered such a fate as he had, to think she had to endure the same bone crunching, searing pain made him angry and more fearful than he had been in… since their death. How long ago that had been, he could not tell. Adrenalin pumped in his veins at the thought that she could be here, that she could be somewhere nearby and in a state of torment.

With this newfound strength he stood, legs supporting him better than he thought they could have after such an ordeal. At one point in the agony, he could have sworn his legs were snapped clean off…

He shook his head, chasing away the thoughts. The trinkets in his hair tinkled softly with the movement and he fingered one in thought. The snake had been moving, lightning quick yet sluggishly slow at the same time, for Elizabeth's motionless body. He had jumped forward then, knowing her death was imminent, knowing there was nothing he could do to save her. He knew that the death of her would be the death of him as well, more so if he was to stay in the land of the living without her. So he had grabbed her, wrapping her in his arms and turning her to face him. He could recall the moment so vividly he swore he could feel her tremble in his arms now. He had not wanted her to see the teeth rushing for them, the dark pit leading down the beasties gullet. So he had held her tight to his chest, offering what comfort he could in her, in his, in their last moments. He hoped his presence had been a comfort while at the same time he knew his presence could not have been comfort enough.

His eyes scanned the wasteland where he stood. The world was grey, all of it, and devoid of color or warmth. It stretched out, not far, before the grayness sloped upwards into the grey, cold sky. The illusion was mind boggling and Jack scowled at the perplexity of it. The sight was so strange, yet he could not figure out what it was that made it so. The answer jumped to him then and his heart sank. No horizon. This wasteland had no horizon but a sudden stop and incline into the sky. It was a hellish enclosure. The air was freezing cold yet not a breeze blew through. "Never any bloody wind," Jack griped, hands nervously toying, now, with the trinkets hanging from his belt.

This place was a hell in and of itself, exactly like Davey Jones Locker yet nothing like it at all. His other hell had been bright and unbearably hot, filled with other sides of himself, sides he hid from the world, sides he never explored, sides that had both cursed and blessed him. Jack after Jack after Jack. This place was the same and as different as Davey's Locker had been. He whirled around, half expecting to see a copy of himself standing there but was greeted with nothing but more cursed grey. He shook his head softly again, knowing that he had killed Davey. More accurately, Will had killed Jones, stabbed his heart. Surely the locker could exist no more. At least, _Davey's _locker couldn't exist anymore…

Suddenly a scream split the air. It was a shriek of pure terror and pain, torn from the throat of someone he knew too well. The sound startled him out of his dark thoughts and plunged him into even deeper darkness, the heart gripping fear of reality. She _was _here and enduring the same torment as he had. He prayed that it was less so, prayed that the sound would end soon.

But it didn't. It increased. It trailed off to a whimper at times, only to be taken up again in full a breath later filled with more pain than before. The sound left Jack numb, all ache concentrated on the beat of his heart, the rhythm set to her screams. He could hear it everywhere, making it seem even more that he was caged in to a horizon-less terrain. The sound was everywhere, a direction impossible to pinpoint. All he knew was that she was there, somewhere. She was in torment, and there was nothing he could do to help her.

But he sure as hell was going to try.

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Barbossa chuckled to himself, satisfied as he watched the scene before him. Given, the serpent had not been part of his plan and was, frustratingly enough, seeming to snap young William out of the deep anger he had worked hard to plunge him into. But the Dutchman's captain was distressed and at a loss just the same. Somewhere deep in his cold, hard heart, Hector Barbossa felt a sting of pity. There was a time not too long ago the pretty lad and his newly deceased lass had been allies of his. But as the devil drives, needs must and so, he did what he had to do to remain on the winning side, to remain ahead and in control.

He was curious as to why he had not been targeted by the leviathan. They were headed on the same course as the _Pearl_What did the snake know of their intent? They could have very well intended to drink from the immortal water. They very well _did _intend to drink from said fountain. Yet the _Pearl _was the only ship approached by the snake. It seemed that it was only hungry and, with a belly full of Jack Sparrow and previous King Elizabeth Swann, had swam off happy.

Curse Jack Sparrow even in his current state, Barbossa thought angrily. If I had the charts than I could have foreseen the serpent, could have known what was to come. He absentmindedly pet the head of Jack the monkey on his shoulder. Ah, no matter. Jack Sparrow has been sent to his well deserved fate and has, at it happens, taken out a possible threat to me and me immortality. It all works out in the end.

"You are a cunning man Barbossa." The voice was cold and Barbossa's smile grew.

"It is that cunning that finds ye owing me some gratitude, no doubt the only reason ye be staying around." He turned to face Bloody Shane, a pointed look in his eye. "With Jack Sparrow dead, yer revenge is complete."

Bloody Shane's lips curved into a vicious smile that made Barbossa look most pleasant. "Death is no revenge. It is the place his soul rests or, rather, cannot rest, that interests me." He took a step closer to Barbossa and Jack the monkey jumped from one of his shoulders to the next. Bloody Shane paid it no attention. "Where, exactly, is that wretch headed after being promptly devoured? That did not fit into my plans, not at all. Having the pleasure denied me of plunging my blade into his heart is not satisfying." Barbossa spotted the flash of a blade peeking out with malicious intent from the once dead man's sleeve. "I am hoping he is somewhere most unpleasant."

Hector dragged his eyes away from the blade, unconcerned. "Aye. Ye know the great deal of scurrying about I had to do to get your Captain into such a rage filled state?" Bloody Shane's eyes flashed with anger at the reminder that he was no longer a captain but a deckhand to the dead. Barbossa leaned forward despite his anger, as if to kiss the man towering before him. "Davey Jones may be dead, and with him Davey Jones's locker but I tell ye, any Dutchman captain's hate can form a new hell… and form one Mr. Turner did. Mark me words."

Bloody Shane drew back, the smile returning. The blade withdrew back into the sleeve. "That is good news."

Barbossa returned the smile. "Aye. Good news indeed."

Shane turned, as if to leave but thought better of it. "When William Turner drinks of the Aqua de Vida he will be free of his duties?"

Barbossa hesitated. "Not exactly. See, I may have lied about one or two things, pulled some strings, as it were, to get us where we are."

Shane's back went rigid but he did not turn around. "If Turner is not free from his duty as captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, who is to free me from this eternal servitude, the likes of which I have no desire to remain in?"

Barbossa's eyes shifted to the chest on the deck of the Dutchman from the Sea Lass, Bloody Shane's vessel where they now stood. "His reign can end if someone were to… stab the heart." Barbossa felt a creeping, bad feeling as he spoke, as if this man should not be given such information but he dismissed the feeling quickly. What cared he of Will Turner's fate?

Bloody Shane's shoulders shook slightly in a silent laugh. "Ah, I have heard as much. Perhaps, then, that is the course that need be taken."

Barbossa took a step forward, against his better judgment. "If ye stab the heart, yours must take its place, Shane."

"It will be good old Davey all over again. Control of the seas… suits me well." He looked at Barbossa over his shoulder. "Suits me very well indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Sorry for the long wait everyone. A new semester started and I am trying to get accustomed to it. Ugh. But I have not abandoned the story. Thanks to you all who have the patients to continue reading, even with my frustrating habit of unpredictability when it comes to updates.**_

**Ch 2**

Jack lungs burned as he pelted across the grey stretch of dust that was his prison. Elizabeth's screams had been going on for what seemed like hours to Jack; he didn't doubt that estimate to be far from the truth. The place was supposed to be his eternal torment. He paused, hands on his knees, breath coming in ragged gasps. He gritted his teeth as another scream split the air. "Could be an illusion Jackie," he told himself. "Who says she has been carried to the same fate as you?"

The attempts to comfort him did not help and he shuttered as the screams continued. Try as he might, he could not pinpoint a direction from which the sounds were coming. The result was much flailing running in one direction, only to double back and rush the other direction moments later when he swore the screams were more prominent a different way. His footprints behind him in the dust stared up at the grey sky, identical footprints scattered about all over; evidence of his frantic search. No manner of searching had proven fruitful so Jack went to plan b.

"ELIZABETH!!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, her screams having momentarily stopped. His call was wild and frantic, more than he could remember it ever having been in his life. The thought was a dim one, barely registered beyond his other frantic, whirling panic fogging his brain. He forced one tired foot in front of the other. "Lizzie, love, where are you? It's 'ol Jack Sparrow. You're driving me off the blooming edge with worry." He crouched, lifting a lump he assumed to be a rock. No Elizabeth. Surprise there, he snorted to himself. "Bess, come on now, help me out here."

Jack pushed his hat back to scratch the top of his head. His brows furrowed in frustration. _Perhaps it is all just an illusion to torture me_, Jack thought.

_What if it's not, _another thought opposed_. What if she really needs help?_

_I would have found her by now_, he countered.

_Can you be sure of that?_

Suddenly, there was a glint in the distance. Faint as it may have been, Jack caught the flash and his eyes targeted it. Squinting hard, he could make out something long and thin rising up into the grey sky. So the run began again, wobble only slightly present, all need to act demolished by his position. The large object rising up into the sky, unidentifiable as it was, was new and that thought alone gave him hope. Elizabeth had to be there.

Jack screeched to a halt, terror gripping him. His stomach was tying itself into painful knots at the sight. Elizabeth was, indeed there; she was chained to a wooden mast that rose high into the sky, the brown pillar an odd contrast to the grey. The wood reached farther into the sky than Jack's eyes could follow and he briefly wondered if the thing even ended anywhere at all. The glint that had caught his eye was the manacles, cruel about her wrists.

Jack's heart constricted as he put the pieces together. This was her personal hell, chained to the mast as she had once done to him. He swallowed hard and took a tentative step forward. Her head hung forward over her chest. "Elizabeth," he called softly, not wanting to startle her. No movement. A bit louder this time. "Lizzie?"

Suddenly her head snapped up to look at him and her eyes made him stop cold. They were dark, so very dark, and he could tell by the pain that twisted her features that internal torment was her captor. She started yanking at the chains madly, like a crazed animal caught in a trap. His eyes traveled to her bloodied writs and he could tell that she had been at it for a while, doing nothing short of tearing flesh from bone in an attempt to free herself.

Then, she screamed.

Jack jumped back a foot with the sound, startled. His hand went to his sword and he drew it hastily, whirling, prepared to face some fearsome beast. But there was none. He turned back to face her and her dark eyes were wild with terror so intense that Jack felt it in his own bones. "Elizabeth, it's me," he attempted, though she was no longer focused on him. Her eyes darted fearfully to the left and right as she relentlessly tugged at the metal holding her captive.

Those buggers have got to go, Jack thought, dropping his sword and reaching a hand for her. She doubled over in pain and Jack pulled his hand back, afraid he had caused it though he had not touched her. Her eyes were wrenched shut now and Jack was almost glad of it. The darkness he had seen there had been too much.

Scowling, he grabbed her with both hands, shaking her lightly. He was beginning to feel frantic. "Elizabeth, it's me. You need to stop this. It's just a nightmare love, a terrible dream."She thrashed against him, writhing in his arms, chains at her wrist jangling noisily, mocking the both of them. Still, she screamed.

Jack felt helpless as she wept and wailed, her entire frame convulsing and shaking. Tears sprang to his own eyes, tears of desperation and pain and he didn't bother hold them back. He was out of ideas, had been from the start. Nothing seemed to get through to her. She didn't even seem to notice that he was there. He glanced down at her chained wrist, contempt for the cursed things even stronger now. Rage and animal desperation filled his being, Elizabeth's state beginning to rub off on him.

He lifted a hand away from Elizabeth, the other still wrapped tightly about her thrashing waist, his ears ringing from her close quartered screaming, and grasped the chain that held her captive. He didn't care if his attempts at freeing her were useless. He knew he had to try. He yanked and pulled on the unnaturally hot metal, hoping to free it from the wood. The links would not budge though, and he quickly relinquished his grip as he felt Elizabeth buckle. He captured her with both hands, pulling her against his chest as her head rolled forward in exhaustion.

He pulled back to look at her face, only to see her eyes were closed. Whatever it was that was causing her torment had pulled her into unconsciousness. He buried his own face into her hair and wept.

* * *

Elizabeth was on fire. Her wrist burned as if it was being held into the flames of Will's old blacksmith shop. She looked down and saw that her wrist had been bound, bound by a manacle much like the one she had bound Jack by. And it was burning the flesh of her wrist. So she would pull and yank on the thing, unable to contain her animalistic screams. The pain was so intense. Then she would look up and, oh things got so much worse. Teeth, millions and millions of teeth set in a mouth too large to fathom. They would close in about her and just before they crushed her, pierced her skin, she would spy Jack, skewered through by one of the giant teeth, his body broken and bleeding.

She would scream and cry in agony of the body and soul. Jack laid dead in the beast's mouth, the beast that was devouring her. As the feeling of tearing flesh and crunching bone began to subside and all began to fade away, she would hear a voice, soft and unmistakably Will's whisper "Pirate. You ruined Jack with a kiss, a kiss to ruin me. Because of you I have to sail for all eternity." The rhyme was eerie and set her to trembling but then all went black, blissfully black and quiet. It was a fearful unconscious, plagued by feelings of regret and shame. She had killed Jack and that was unforgivable. She had killed him and she had rightly suffered the same fate… over and over and over. She would remain in the black oblivion of regret for too short a time, blinking awake to the familiar sight of the _Pearl's_ deck, the mast hard behind her and it would all start again.

First the tentacles would rise up over the rail, deliberately slow. They had no need to rush. They had her. She would frantically look back down at the source of the unbearable pain, manacles, and try, once again, to escape. She never could and, over and over, she had to suffer the death she knew Jack must have experienced, had to hear the spine chilling, calm and condemning whisper of William before blackness claimed all her senses.

Jack felt Elizabeth shift in his arms, her head rising up off of his chest. Her eyes were as black as before, filled with despair and torment. For a moment, Jack had hoped this awakening would fare different. He had no such luck. Things progressed exactly as before; Elizabeth screamed and thrashed against him and no matter how much he pleaded, shouted, cried, shook or held her, it made no difference. He wondered, the next time she collapsed against him, how much she could take. He recalled his time in the locker and realized he had survived with unbearable hunger and the scorching heat for much longer than was physically possible. Elizabeth's circumstance, he knew, must not be any different. She would endure the torture as long as she remained.

Jack held her motionless body to him tighter, knowing she would wake again soon and be tormented all over again. The locker really is no different than hell, Jack thought. Eternal torment is what the good book says of hell and that is precisely what we have here. The only difference I see is that the locker has been personalized to each individual.

Jack could not think why the locker this time around was so different or why the locker still existed at all. He knew the land not to be hell for all of the evils he had committed in his lifetime, the number vastly smaller than that required of piracy, did not gain him a place there. He believed that there existed a God, one he even prayed to in times of trouble. He thought he could recall at one point before his take up of piracy, back when he had been a regular gentleman under the law, reading in his now tattered bible that belief in God and his son saved one from hell. While he knew his life had been far from pure and that he had not always asked for forgiveness for his many sins, he did believe in the Christian God. He knew he had broken enough of the holy Ten Commandments to eternally damn him and so he could see finding himself in hell.

But could he ever see Elizabeth in such a place of eternal torment? He knew the answer to be a no before he finished the thought. She was an angel walking the earth, personality, belief, upbringing and heart aside. If he was somewhere with him, he was not in hell.

_Unless she isn't really here, _the ever present opposing voice reminded him. _This could just be for your torment. _

The dark though gave him some measure of hope, the thought that Elizabeth could still be free. But there was a level of awareness to him that could not be denied. He had felt what it was like to be dead, truly and completely and then pulled back into a state of only half dead, the state of Davey's locker. This was that half dead state. He was in the locker again. With Davey Jones dead he could only come to the conclusion that William was becoming more like fish face than he or Elizabeth had ever thought. His bitterness had gone and created his own nice, dark locker. The snake he knew to have been Calypso's pet. Will may have created a personalized hell but not knowingly, Jack could be sure. To be sent to such a place the _Dutchman _captain must have a Ferrier to _that _state of death, a sort of portal. The kraken had been Davey's. Calypso must have empowered the protector of the Aqua de Vida with that job as well. Jack knew she would never let such a delicious fate for those who had once imprisoned her go to waste.

Elizabeth stirred in his arms again and he set his jaw in determination. He would stop this. As Elizabeth raised her head again, he cupped the back of her head. "Love, it was a kiss that sent me to my doom and your guilt that brings you yours. Let your freedom be gained by a kiss, make sweet what is meant to be so but has been tainted by the past." With that, he pulled her lips to his hungrily. He swept her mouth with passionate forgiveness; he only hoped she could taste his pardon through her torturous state.

Elizabeth braced herself as well as she could as she was pulled from the black unconscious.

_Here we go again, _she thought with tired and very weak humor. The burning was back in full and she couldn't help but yank against the feeling, even as blood trickled down her wrist. But suddenly, the course of events changed. She could see Jack out on the ocean, safe in his longboat, rowing just as he had when they were first attacked by the kraken, rowing away to safety. But suddenly he turned, just as the tip of a tentacle rose up into her view. Her momentary feeling of hope in the change of events faded as the tentacle was joined by another, blocking the longboat from her line of vision. She would be devoured all the same.

But miraculously, Jack was before her, suddenly and startlingly. He was looking at her, eyes desperate and full of fear. She wanted to shout at him, tell him to run but his arms were tight about her and she could think of no else as he tucked his fingers into her hair and pulled her close. He spoke something, something of kisses and the past but the roar of the kraken, another new addition to her nightmare, drowned him out.

Then his lips were on hers, promising freedom from her nightmare, reminding her of things long ago forgiven. Startled, she realized she had only to forgive herself for her past mistakes that haunted her. The man that had been put on the receiving end had long ago offered his forgiveness. She could stop this torment.

She kissed Jack back in earnest, clinging to him in desperation, so glad to feel him whole and in her arms rather than broken and bloodied between the teeth of the beast. She opened her eyes slightly to glance at the rows of teeth, hoping to not see Jack among them. Surely he could not be there when he was pressed against her, kissing her. Rather suddenly, in a flash of blinding grey, the terrorizing scene she had faced fell away. She pulled away from Jack, yelping in surprise at the brightness and the stabbing pain in her chest. Her heart, it hurt. She fell not to a black as night deck but a ground of grey dust. Her bloodied wrist fell free of the burning clamp of the chains and into her lap. She grabbed at the pain in her chest with her right hand and gasped. Vaguely she felt strong arms around her, sinking to the ground with her. She gasped again as she realized that she felt no beating organ in her ribcage. She blinked when she saw why. Her heart laid beating in her now freed hand, the recently bound wrist that now lay in her lap. Her heart was no longer in her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Again, I apologize to all you wonderful people out there who like the writing I do. You are truly amazing individuals to wait so long for updates. I am so grateful that you put up with it. I have been busy lately but never fear. I won't forget this story, nor my other one. Stay tuned and I hope you enjoy this next chapter._**

**_Comments equivilant to rum so by all means, comment! It would make me a very happy pirate lass. _**

**Ch 3**

"Well that's interesting," Elizabeth heard Jack say, close to her ear.

In that moment her emotions went wild and a million questions ran through her head. Where was she? How had she been released from that terrible nightmare? How had Jack found her? Was Jack really with her? Why had she heard Will's voice?

The beating organ in her hand prevented her from addressing any of them. She had an overwhelming desire to chuck the thing. It was surprisingly tough in her hand and she could feel it pumping strongly, as if it still needed to be sending blood through her veins. It was a strange and chilling sensation.

"What is… how did… why…"

"I'm as lost as you love," Jack interrupted. Elizabeth jumped as he cupped her face in his hands. She looked at him for the first time since her nightmare and his eyes were swimming with the ends of fear and the beginnings of relief. "Are you alright now? I thought I had lost ye for a minute there."

She blinked and nodded as she recalled again the nightmare she had just come from. "It was terrible Jack." She shivered.

"But yer alright now?"

"Well I suppose, if having my heart beating in the palm of my hand suffices as alright!"

Jack chuckled, running his thumb over her cheek. "Aye, I would say your back to ye old spitfire self."

"What do I do with this?" She lifted the heart level with Jack's eyes and he sat back away from her a bit.

"Put it back!"

"And would you care to enlighten me as to how I am to do that?"

"If I knew how."

"Well I must know how! I cannot carry this thing out in the open air!"

Jack's voice took on a high pitch of bewilderment. "Well you're asking the wrong man Lizzie. Just stuff the thing back into your chest I suppose. Allow me." A wicked smile came to his lips as he reached for the hem of her shirt.

She slapped his hand away, fighting to keep her own smile at bay. "This is serious. I really must find something to do with this, this, thing!" She sighed, suddenly feeling very drained. "This is my punishment." When Jack didn't say anything she looked at him again. "This is the fate that Will faced because of me. It's only fair that I suffer it too."

"Eh, the burden would lie with me more than you Lizzie. I am, after all, the one who made Will's almost lifeless hand stab Jones's heart. Don't go pity party on me. Couldn't stand spending the rest of eternity with the depressed." She could tell he was uncertain, his eyes dark with doubt. He quickly averted them, knowing she could see it there.

"Jack, where are we?"

He looked at her, sadness in his eyes but didn't answer right away. Her stomach turned as she came to her own conclusion. "We're in the Locker, aren't we?"

Jack winced.

"Davey Jones is dead and this is nothing like the place we rescued you from. I don't understand how the locker can still exist."

"Well, in that I may have a theory to lend to your conundrum. I believe your beloved William may have brewed up this little beauty without even knowing it."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide and Jack noticed grimly that the heart in her hand beat a bit faster. "William would never…"

"As I said, brewed it without even knowing it."

Elizabeth's eyebrows came together in a confused and thoroughly unsatisfied scowl. The next of a million whirling questions came to mind. "So if this is the Locker and the locker is supposed to be eternal torment, what have you had to face?"

"It would seem that hearing your anguished screams echo throughout this wasteland and not being able to reach you was the hell delivered to me."

Elizabeth was relieved he was not forced to face any worse and registered that, at some point, her life had become much more important to him than she thought. If one of his worst nightmares now was her being in danger… her head spun at the thought. "But you found me. You pulled me from that Jack."

"Aye. That is exactly what I am worried about. You're not an illusion are you?" Elizabeth let out a surprised squeak as Jack grabbed her around the waist.

"Jack!"

"Good. I had hoped not. Yet that poses quite the onslaught of questions, does it not? If I was able to escape my nightmare by saving you from yours, wouldn't that be the end to the hell, thus an escape from the locker since the locker itself is a never-ending, torturous state between life and death and escaping our personalized nightmares would, in turn, end the nightmare, which really isn't possible in the locker because said locker is supposed to last for all eternity?"

Elizabeth was startled to find that she understood his confusing way of sorting through his thoughts. She wondered briefly when that had happened. "It can't be over."

"Which means that there is more to come."

Elizabeth and Jack locked eyes. It wasn't over. It couldn't be. Suddenly, Jack's curiosity in her being an illusion wasn't so crazy after all. She raised her free hand, the fingers twitching and shaking, to touch his face. She was gripped by an otherwise irrational fear that her fingers would pass right through him. But they didn't and she let out an audible sigh of relief.

Jack turned into her palm, kissing it. "Well I'll tell you one thing," Jack's voice was slightly muffled as he spoke into her hand. The whiskers of his mustache tickled and she could feel the words formed on his lips against her skin. "You're not leaving me side."

Elizabeth allowed herself a smile. "We've escaped the locker once before. Surely we can do it again." Her hopes were slowly rising. How bad could the locker be if Jack was by her side? They would end the madness somehow.

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Will wrung his hands and stared pensively into the water. His head hurt, the anger brimming, wanting to come forth, but he held it back. Elizabeth was dead. Dead! She had been eaten before his eyes. He told himself it was no time to be so mad, so unbearably frustrated and enraged…

_Jack. The scum killed her. He had tried to shield her at the very end, yes. But he was her death from the start. If Elizabeth hadn't ever met Jack, her life would have been much better off. I would have her now, safe. _

_Bloody Shane__. If the fool hadn't messed up my last confrontation with Jack and Elizabeth, I could have her by my side now and Jack alone would have been eaten. The world would be a much better place._

_But Elizabeth chose him. She chose to sail off with Jack, leave the safety of the island she was supposed to remain on. She left and so perhaps her death was deserved after all. I wanted her to stay and protect my heart, the heart I gave up to free my father. She was supposed to wait for me. How could she be so selfish?!_

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Bootstrap stood a few paces away, watching as his son's lips moved but no sound came out. He puzzled at Will's hands, red from hitting things and the constant wringing of which he was now doing. Although he never knew his son, had met him for the first time no more than a year ago, he knew him well enough that the violent anger was cause for alarm. William had a good heart. He had been corrupted by his duty. That was what Bootstrap had feared would happen. But he knew Will had a strong, pure heart, strong enough to withstand the duty, even come to enjoy it.

Leading lost souls to the "other side" could be a very peaceful duty, one that left the ferryman feeling at ease and calm. He had seen it in the bit of time Will had performed his duty properly, the bit of time before he had gone suddenly heartbroken and mad.

Bootstrap shook his head, casting a disdainful glance over at where Shane stood. That man was trouble. All the seas knew it. But now the man was immortal as much as Will, bound to the Dutchman until release by its captain. The man should have stayed dead. The real Will would never have brought such a man aboard. But here he was, looking all the inch like the killer and devious ex-captain the world knew him to be.

Well… all the world but Will. He was too blind by his fury.

Bootstrap Bill cautiously walked closer to his son. He knew he could get through to him. Even if he couldn't, something must be done. He prayed that the tidbit of information he had overheard between Shane and Barbossa would reach something deep down inside him, prompt him to help. He knew if it didn't, Jack and Elizabeth were doomed.

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"Jack!"Elizabeth jerked under the arm Jack had around her waist to support her. "The kitten! The cat!"

"Yes Elizabeth, what about the little devil?"

She turned wide, shaken eyes on him and it was all he could do not to apologize for a wrong he hadn't even committed yet. "He was with us when we were eaten! He must have been devoured too!"

Jack couldn't be cruel under that stare so he started them forward again, gently pulling her along with him, through the endless stretch of grey. "I am sure he got away. Can't have been that stupid."

"No Jack! I'm sure he was eaten! He must have been! Do you think that he was sent here or just…"

"Either he is safe on board the _Pearl_ or he is somewhere here. I'm not the bloody expert on all things Locker so I don't know its policy on pet stowaways. It should make for a way to pass the dreary time though, keep our eyes open for the black menace. But rest assured he is not just dead." Jack wanted to bite his tongue as he spoke the lie. He hadn't the slightest clue if the cat was truly, completely dead or not but he wasn't about to tell her that. She had enough to worry about.

"If you're not the… bloody expert… then who could be I wonder? You have been to the locker before. You should know more than anyone."

"There's that and the fact that I am the only other soul within this hell hole that you have to ask."

Elizabeth leaned into Jack a bit heavier and he cast her a startled glance. Ever since he had pulled her from her nightmare she had seemed extra weak and jumpy. He was happy to see that she pressed herself against him more as a rare display of affection than further weakness.

"What was it like for you?"

Jack drew a blank and quickly scanned his short term memory. What had they been talking about? This woman, he knew, would be his demise… for a third time, if they ever got out of their current predicament. She always distracted his thoughts, so badly he would even forget the topic of conversation. His mind was his most powerful asset and she was taking that advantage away.

So he relied on what came to him just as naturally and was just as useful. Humor. "What was what like for me love? My first night tumble with a pretty Tortugan wench? My first drunken night? Actually, those two coincide…"

"No. Your stay in Davey Jones's locker?"

Jack's fingers twitched. He fixed his eyes on the heart beating in Elizabeth's hand, debating on whether or not he wanted to relinquish his previous experience in that place. He had never told anyone of it. No one had ever asked, as it was in many aspects of his life. "My stay in the locker? Eh, not the most cheery of tales although I suppose one could find humor in the whole scene, circumstances notwithstanding."

Elizabeth gazed out over the grey, horizon less landscape. It was an unnerving thing, to look out and not see the thing he was always sailing for in the other world. "I would like to know. There is so much I don't know about you Jack, so much I want to learn."

Several witty remarks, many of them indecent, lay at the back of his mind, wanting to spring forward into speech but Jack was too surprised by her honest admission to register them. "Well, it was hot. And sunny. And hot."

"That much I remember when we arrived there to rescue you. It must have been terrible for you."

"Aye it was. Thirsty all the time. Hungry all the time as well. No relief from the heat… bloody nightmare. No wind. No water. No nothing; just me memories and every part of me. Literally. And there was this infernal peanut that I could never quite taste…"

"What do you mean?"

"The peanut or the parts of me?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I mean, there was literally twenty or so identical me's running about the deck of my beached ship. Each one represented a different part of me. In the midst of my heat induced delirium I didn't comprehend the meaning of them, that each of them was an emotion or part of what makes me, me."

"So these personality based parts of you took form and that form was twenty or so identical you's?"

"Precisely Lizzie. Frightening isn't it? And quite improbable. There is only one of me. It's best that way. It was hard for me to face myself and so at that time, that was a nightmare presented to me. Although to most every female on the land and sea, multiple me's would be a dream rather than a nightmare."

Elizabeth bit the corner of her lip in thought. "Yes, perhaps I could have some fun with that many Jacks…"

"I knew it." Jack gave her a little squeeze.

They walked for a while in silence, utter and complete silence the likes of which they had never known. There was no wind, no rustling, no waves crashing on the shore. It was eerie and Jack resorted to whistling to fill the acoustic gap.

They walked side by side, his whistle the only sound and the slight, soft beat of Elizabeth's heart filling the noise gap as well. It was quite a ways into their fruitless search for anything not grey that Jack felt Elizabeth tilt away from him slightly (or was _he _actually the one tilting?) It was then that he saw the hand gripping Elizabeth's heart slacken and then that he watched, somehow unable to move, as Elizabeth's heart slipped from her fingers and towards the grey, dusty ground. A fraction of a second before the beating thing actually made impact the world dropped away and Jack felt himself collapsing as well. The last thing he heard was a shattering noise.

The last thing he thought was that it must have been Elizabeth's heart hitting the ground. And he wondered, even as he was caught in blackness, how he would ever gather all the pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ch 4**

"Jack?" Elizabeth felt Jack wobble unsteadily on his legs beside her, the hold on her waist loosening. When he started to collapse she gasped, reaching for him and, in the process, dropped her heart. Time seemed to slow but she did not. She looked from Jack to her heart as they made their way toward the ground. The sensible thing to do in such an event would be to catch the heart and then grab Jack. With the two falling in slow motion and herself moving at a normal speed it should have been possible. But it wasn't. She could move nothing but her head and watch, horrified, as Jack hit the ground on her one side and her heart hit the ground on the other.

As soon as her heart hit the ground it shattered. Pieces of it, glistening like jewels, shot out into the wasteland, glistening in the eerie sunless light. She gasped, a brief, sharp pain throbbing in her chest where her heart would be. Other than that there seemed to be no further effects and in that moment Elizabeth was able to move again. Seeing as how her heart had been shattered, she dropped immediately to Jack's side.

"Jack!" she called, peering at his face. She cursed silently. She knew things couldn't have been so easy. Jack saving her from her first nightmare was only momentary relief, if he saving her had been real at all. As she looked at him she contemplated the fact that maybe she had not been saved at all. Perhaps Jack had never really saved her but that was just part of the nightmare, a new twist to show her momentary happiness and hope only to snuff it out a little while later.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she noticed something strange. _Funny, _she thought, squinting. _I can't make out his face…_

Elizabeth gasped and fell back onto her butt. Jack was disappearing before her eyes, fading into nothing. His very image was transparent, becoming more so by the second until all that was left was a shadow. Elizabeth pushed herself back up onto her knees and peered at the dark mass. It was unmistakably Jack, long haired and lean. She scowled and cocked her head slightly. The shadow had dimension, had shape. It was as if Jack was standing above her and she was staring at the shadow of him cast on the ground… but the form lying out before her was as three dimensional as the flesh and bones Jack Sparrow.

She reached a cautious hand forward to touch the new Jack, curious if it was really still him. An inch away from his face and his eyes opened, stark white against the shadow black of the rest of his face. His eyes were the only thing that remained the same as they had been before; same chocolate brown depths. But the twinkle of mischief was gone, replaced by a dull glare.

The chuckle that came from Shadow Jack startled Elizabeth and she yanked her hand away as the dark form sat up. She remained motionless as those dark, lifeless eyes appraised her. She felt exposed before him and extremely uncomfortable.

She found her voice. "Jack! Are you alright? You passed out and scared me to death." She knew enough to not be too hopeful. Not yet. When the shadow didn't speak she started to despair even more. "Jack, what's going on?"

"Your 'ol Jackie is out for a bit. I'm all that's left."

Elizabeth tried to crush the creeping feeling of dread. "Left? But, he was you a second ago…

"I suppose he is me. And perhaps 'left' wasn't the appropriate word choice. He is doing a little soul searching."

Elizabeth felt no less confused. "So who are you?"

The form smiled and gold and white teeth were a harsh contrast to the shadow black. His teeth were the same. "I'm Jack, make no mistake. I'm just the part of him he tries so hard to ignore, the darkness to his light, the root of his internal struggles. I am his sins, his hate, his contempt." Shadow Jack leaned toward her. "I am Jack's inner darkness love and that's bad news for you. In me you'll find no good man, no gentlemanly reserve nor a need to forgive. I truly take what I can and give nothing back." The smile became terrible now; Elizabeth had never seen such a grimace on the real Jack's face before. "A truly discomforting notion love."

The quote brought back memories from her sail with Jack to save Will. Jack had said those same words in accordance with Beckett obtaining the chest. Back then the look in his eyes when he had spoken those same words had made her heart flutter, her cheeks warm. The Shadow speaking now was mocking her cherished past, fully aware of the way the memory would affect her. It may have been the same words but the meaning had completely changed. 'Love' seemed like a curse, the shadow practically spitting the word.

Elizabeth shivered. "Where's Jack?"

"I am Jack, weren't you listening?"

"The real Jack," Elizabeth hissed, moving to stand.

Shadow Jack's hands on her knees stopped her progress. He brought his face close to hers. The smile on his lips was devilish, as if he had just been caught in a most devious deed and was proud of it. "I am the real Jack. He tries to hide it and may try to resist but this is who we are. I've very rarely ever been released and it's always bit by bit. I've never been free and now that I am, I am going to enjoy every minute of it."

"Bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!" Jack sat up and his head pounded. "Bloody, stupid whelp…"

He paused and blinked once; twice. He was startled to notice that all the grey was gone. The wasteland had, at some point, left him.

_Or I have left it,_ Jack thought.

It was warm now and Jack welcomed the heat. The other wasteland had been so cold. But here it was dark red everywhere. A red sun shone above casting the surrounding area in what could hardly be considered light. Every unidentifiable mound seemed to have a shadow crouching behind it. Jack thought he could hear the ocean somewhere far away, crashing upon the shore but he could smell nothing of the salty tang he knew so well. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw movement but when he turned, he was met with nothing.

"Now this looks more like hell," Jack muttered to himself. He glanced at the empty red sand beside him. "No Elizabeth. Well done Jack. You've successfully reached hell."

"Aye, or at least the closest thing to it."

Jack stood and whipped around in one fluid movement, reaching for his sword. There stood a duplicate of himself, naked to the waist, smiling cockily. "Oi! Not you again."

"Not me again?" the duplicate Jack asked with feigned hurt. "Didn't you miss us mate?"

"Us?" Jack lifted an eyebrow.

"Aye us you bloody fool."

Jack spun on his heel and there stood another copy of himself; more than one. There were at least a dozen. The scene was all too familiar and Jack cursed. "What do you all want? I thought I was rid of ye a while ago."

"Never rid of us sir," put in a timid Jack. "You had just… silenced us for a bit, as it were."

"We are you Jack. You are us. There is no denying that."

"May I ask you a question?" Jack asked, hand tightening on his sword hilt in frustration.

"Aye," a bunch of Jack's resounded.

"Where the bloody, buggering hell am I?"

Shirtless one smiled. "Why you are nowhere that you don't know, just a place that you may have never dared to venture to."

"Don't talk to me in riddles," Jack growled.

"You are inside yourself Jack. This is you. This is what you are."

Jack stabbed his sword into the red dirt. "Let me get this straight mate. You're telling me that this bloody red wasteland that we are standing in now is me insides?"

Shirtless one smiled. "In a manner of speaking."

Jack opened his mouth to protest but he was cut off by a Jack somewhere behind him. "And this, my friend, is your alter ego."

"My what?!"

Before he got an answer, the floor completely dropped away. At least it seemed that way for rather suddenly Jack was able to see through the floor. Beneath him lay the grey wasteland he had just escaped. He had an all too clear view of Elizabeth crouched on the ground.

Knees shaking more than he would like to admit, Jack dropped to them. He placed his hands on the transparent ground.

"Glass," he mumbled. "It's just like glass. I've never seen it so smooth. Bet the boys in Shipwreck city would pay a fortune for a bit of it…"

"Aye."

Jack watched, puzzled, as a dark shape practically climbed into Elizabeth's lap. He brought his face closer to the barrier and saw that the dark shape looked familiar, hauntingly so. Its hands grasped Elizabeth on both thighs and she startled, leaning away from it.

"Oi!" Jack shouted, snapping his head up to look at the surrounding Jack's. "What is going on here?"

"I told you mate. That's you."

"It very well is not. As you can see I am very much here and very not happy."

"He is you as much as we are you Jackie," muttered an open shirted Jack, bottle swinging from his fingers lazily.

"As I said, he is your alter ego."

Jack brought his attention back to the scene unfolding beneath him. The view made him dizzy, as if he had drank too much rum.

"And what… exactly, would the persona so titled as my alter ego be made up of? In you lot I see my drunken state, my timid side, my weak side, my hot tempered and submissive sides... what is left for this so called shadow of mine?" He spoke to the group but his eyes remained fixed below him. He gritted his teeth as the shadow form of himself started running his hands higher and higher on Elizabeth's trouser clad legs.

"The worst parts of you."

Jack swallowed past the lump in his throat at attempted to sound uninterested and light. "By whose standards?"


	5. Chapter 5

**_Oh man people. Sorry for the delays. Just finished college finals and so I finally have some Sparrabeth writing time. I have been horrible with the updates all and for that, I am truly sorry. I know how it is to start reading something and have the writer rarely update. I promise to try and do better. But life happens, what can I say. I am having jaw surgery in 6 days and that has been a MAJOR stress in my life and I am prepping for it. On the plus side, I may have time to write a bunch. Its a month of being confined to a bed... yeehaa. Lots of Pirates will be watched at my house and hopefully lots of writing, that is if I am not too drugged up and miserable._**

**_So again, a million and one appologies for the late update. But my summer is here so more updates should come about faster. Thanks again to all the lovely people who encourage me and read my work. Reviews are love and I really do cherish them all. They are what keep me writing people. _**

**Ch 5**

"You can't be the real Jack," Elizabeth insisted, squirming under Shadow Jack's unnaturally cold hands.

The shadow chuckled deep in his throat. "That's because I'm not the Jack you're accustomed to. I think you'll find, love, that I am much more fun."

Elizabeth gasped as the Shadow leaned in for her neck. She desperately tried to scoot back away from the chilling figure. "Perhaps I am not only accustomed to the real Jack but I like him better!"

The shadow leaned back a bit and groaned, smile on his face. "Now how would you know that wench? You haven't even gotten to know me yet." His grip on her thighs tightened and Elizabeth winced a bit in pain. "You don't have much of a choice now though. You will get to know me and you will enjoy it."

Elizabeth wracked her brain for any mention of such a side of Jack from Jack's last visit to Davey Jones's locker. They hadn't talked much about the experience but she was fairly certain that such a part of him as the Shadow Jack would have been brought up right away. Surely no side of Jack could have been more terrible to endure than this.

Humanity had a balance; she knew that every human had good lying about somewhere, just as sure as she was that there was dark in every person's heart. Character was born of these two choices; personalities came about with the choice of just how much good to put to use and just how much evil to draw upon. Naturally, humans did not have a perfect balance in real life but inside, Elizabeth believed, there was always that same balance. Such a concentrated darkness should not have manifested itself in Jack's multiple personalities so long as there were those good parts to match it.

Elizabeth scowled at her thoughts, ignoring the shockingly cold feel of the shadow's breath on her throat as he ran his lips along her skin. Something must have happened to one of the Jacks, the figure that represented a good part of Jack as a whole. She could think of no other explanation for this shadow Jack manifestation.

Elizabeth decided her best defense would be a good offense. She decided to play on that dark side she knew lay deep in her own self as well. A coy smile played on her lips. "I must say, there is something to say for this darker side of Jack."

The shadow's smile widened against her skin. "Oh is that so? Do tell." He waited for her to continue.

"Well…" Elizabeth rose up to a crouching position, pulling away. "A Jack with no restraint sounds as if it could be fun for a number of reasons and… and, well, this part of Jack is so mysterious and he is… you seem so devious."

The shadow rose to his full height and Elizabeth did the same. "I am glad that ye think that wench."

Elizabeth flinched slightly. Wench? It was the second time the shadow had called her that and she found it a bit harsh. Still, she stuck to her plan, her voice an attempt at seductive. "Tell me, how is it that such a cunning part of Jack was never released?"

The shadow shrugged and in the blink of an eye was behind her, breathing into her ear. "I had been, from time to time but only bit by bit:

When Barbossa stole our ship.

When Will betrayed us.

When you betrayed us, chaining us to the mast.

Each time Jack was close to releasing me and each time that good part in him won out over me being completely released."

The shadow's lips were cold against her ear. "We wanted you, wanted your heart and death simultaneously. Jack's bloody good heart won out in that battle as well. We could have taken you on that deck, either by the sword or more pleasurable means." Elizabeth shivered at the statement despite the circumstances but it wasn't the cold that made her so. "We knew of your intentions from the start, your intentions to leave us for dead in order to save the rest of that worthless crew. Should have done away with you…"

Elizabeth gasped as the cold of the shadow wrapped around her throat. It took her a moment before she realized that it was his hands. It took her another moment to realize just what they were doing there. His intent was unmistakable as her breathing became struggled.

"We should have killed you then and there, right on that deck. I could kill you here. Now. With my hands around your pretty throat it would be so easy; too easy."

--

Jack stared transfixed at the scene beneath him. "Oi! No no!" Jack pounded a fist against the transparent ground. His "alter ego" was getting a little too close to Elizabeth for comfort. He looked up at the surrounding Jacks. "This has all been lovely, really it has. But see I'm not too comfortable with this arrangement…" Jack turned back to look down.

"You're not… comfortable with it?"

"No I'm bloody not!" Jack shouted as the shadow moved behind Elizabeth. "Why didn't I have the pleasure of meeting this particular part of me back at my last locker visit?"

"He wasn't around then Jackie."

"No, he wasn't," another Jack agreed.

Jack addressed the group without taking his eyes away from Elizabeth. "And why would that be?"

"It would seem ye did away with one of us, none too kindly either," drunken Jack replied lazily.

"Bugger…" Jack growled. The death of his "good man" side must have had resulted in the shadow that he now watched below him. It made sense to him and he shuttered to think about the results he could have suffered in reality.

"And how then, gents, would I reverse the death I did to my good self?" When he heard nothing but silence behind him he started to raise his voice. "I'm assuming that is the reason for this… this… abomination below us." Jack curled his nose. "The shadow doesn't even look like me…"

The Jack's around him sighed and shrugged. "You can't undo death," one replied.

Just then, Jack could see Elizabeth begin to struggle, saw the shadow's hands begin to wrap around her throat. "Don't tell me I can't undo death. I have cheated it more than once. You lot better tell me how to get rid of the thing that's below us right now before it leaves a mark on Lizzie…" When no one answered, Jack whipped his head around to shout, frantic now. He saw no one. The rest of the Jack's had vanished.

"Am I in the locker?! Is this the sodding locker?!" He glared down at Elizabeth and his alter ego, hands splayed on the ground. "You've gotta get us outta this one darli'n cause I don't see a way to save you this time."

Even as he spoke, Jack knew he couldn't just sit back and watch. Elizabeth was visibly struggling now, her hands making futile attempts to grasp onto the shadow's wrists. Each time she tried, her hands passed right through yet the fingers about her throat were unmistakably there.

"Do I have to play the bloody hero? I'm no good at that. Can't do that. Pirates aren't hero's Lizzie!" He was shouting to her now. "I can't be the hero. 'S not who I am; I don't live the life of a hero," he snarled, fed up with his helplessness and slammed his fists against the ground. "Will Turner was your hero. I'm not William Turner!! I'm a bloody pirate!"

Realizing physical strength was doing no good, Jack fell into deep thought. _I've got to be able to beat this thing, escape meself, as it were. My dark side… my worst parts… does Jack Sparrow even have any worst parts? _He watched his shadow as it choked Elizabeth. _My worst parts… my want for revenge? Resentment? I forgave Elizabeth for betraying me, admired her for the act. Pure pirate thinking. Could that alter ego-whosit be trying to get revenge for Elizabeth's betrayal?_

Jack's eyes widened at the thought. While he had forgiven Elizabeth for what she had done, couldn't hold it against her with that look of sadness in her eyes, had he truly come to grasps with what she had done or was it blind forgiveness?

"Still some revengeful thoughts deep down in me, eh? Do I still blame her?" Jack shook his head. He knew, now more than ever as he watched his dark feelings literally killing her even if he knew she could never actually die in the place they were, that he still had harbored some bitterness over the event and that he needed to come to grips with it… and he needed to now.

"Oi! Ugly shadow beastie from the depths of me own heart!! Leave Lizzie alone you half-wit!" Jack jumped up, drawing his sword. "I have some unfinished business that I had thought was never a problem with ye but now has manifested itself and is, indeed, very much a problem."

With that, he stabbed his sword into the glass like ground and all at once, he fell.


End file.
